Flying Solo
by Iverna
Summary: Short vignette exploring Han's decision to turn the Falcon around and join the fight against the Death Star. Set during ANH, obviously. Please tell me what you think!


_This is basically Han's thoughts as he leaves the rebellion behind, and an exploration of what made him turn the ship around.It's set during ANH and the assault on the Death Star, when Han has just left Yavin 4.The movie never seems to explain why exactly Han decided to join the fight, so I decided to try and flesh that out a little._

* * *

"Hey Luke!"

The blond young man turned around and looked at Han, his expression stubborn but prepared to listen despite himself.

"May the Force be with you." The words sounded strange, and Han didn't fully understand them. He only knew that for some reason, he wanted to show this kid in front of him that he wasn't all bad. Somehow, those blue eyes looking at him while the naïve young man hurled the parting shot at him made Han feel like a traitor. The old man's phrase was his attempt at doing something Rebel, just to show some solidarity.

It was as close to an apology as Han Solo ever got.

Luke looked at him, long and hard, then turned away. Han stood looking at his back for a while, then turned back to loading the boxes of metals onto the cargo hauler. Chewie caught his eye and rumbled a half-sarcastic comment about hokey religions. Han glared at him.

"What are you looking at? I know what I'm doing!"

They finished loading in silence, while all around them the fighter pilots scrambled to their ships, in preparation for an attack that was crazier than anything Han had ever heard of. Even the Battle of Nar Shaddaa hadn't been this desperate. They'd fought overwhelming odds, yes, but there had been drills, preparations, practice runs...

He shook his head. Suicide, that's exactly what it was. The sooner he and Chewie got on the _Millennium Falcon_ and out of here, the better.

"Let's get this stuff loaded and secured down. You checked out the homing beacon, right?"

Chewie growled an affirmative. Willard had offered the help of some of his people to check the _Falcon_ through, but Han had declined. In a civil war, with both sides trying to out-spy the other, he wasn't about to trust either of them. One homing beacon was enough.

The familiar routine of loading cargo was a welcome distraction from the mad scramble outside. Han and Chewie made record time, and it was a matter of minutes before Han was back in the cockpit and running through the preflights. Han flicked a switch on his comm..

"_Millennium Falcon_, ready for takeoff," he said briskly.

The speakers crackled to life. "_Falcon_, this is control. You're green to go. Clear skies to you."

Han's eyebrows rose involuntarily as he heard the smuggler's well-wishing from the mouth of that anonymous Rebel. They brought an unexpected feeling of familiarity, and Nar Shaddaa flicked across his mind again. Moments later, he chided himself for being surprised. Revolts against authority tended to attract those who had problems with it.

"Thanks, control. _Falcon _out."

He powered up the repulsors and steered the ship through the hangar. Someone outside was waving glowsticks around, telling him where to go, but he ignored the guy. Lifting off from hangars like this one was another part of the routine.

He engaged the sublight engines as soon as they cleared the hangar, and the _Falcon_ soared off over the trees of Yavin 4. Free. Han grinned happily and looked over at Chewie. "Open skies from now on, pal," he said. "As soon as Jabba gets hold of this lot, the worry days are over."

Chewie emitted a series of enthusiastic grunts and growls.

"Well, I'm sure he'll accept this instead of credits. If not, we'll find a place to sell it first." Han shrugged; he had enough with which to bargain now, and either way he'd get Jabba off his tail. What more could a man ask for?

They cleared Yavin 4's atmosphere without so much as a wobble. Up ahead and to the left, Yavin loomed in the darkness of space.

And behind it...

Chewie let out a warning growl as he pointed at the display. Han broke out of his thoughts and glanced at it.

"Yeah, bigger and meaner than before, if that's possible. They probably won't bother us, but no way am I flying past that thing. They'd have us stringed for insolence if nothing else. 'Sides, they probably have the_ Falcon _marked, now."

The thought of it still made Han want to shudder. He'd seen enough in the hangar, in that mad rush towards the _Falcon _while Luke tried to kill all the troopers in sight. There was only one black mask like that in the whole galaxy, and having seen it once, Han had no desire to repeat the experience. Hell, back in Greelanx's office the voice alone had nearly turned his blood to ice. He'd been far too close to death in those rushed, headless hours – he had all but looked it in the eye.

He straightened up resolutely and began plotting a new course.

Chewie growled again, and several more blips flared into existence. X-Wings. Han looked at how many there were and shook his head. Hopeless. Stupid.

As the _Falcon_ put more distance between it and the Death Star, Chewie growled and hrrnnned. Han turned on him. "Because, pal. You heard what I told Luke, it's suicide. I'm not such a big fan of that."

More growling.

"Leave Bria out of it!" Han snapped, suddenly and violently angry. "She's dead, remember?"

Chewie insisted on his question.

"I said leave her out of it!" Of course it hadn't been suicide. Bria had loved life, he knew that. Especially since fighting off her addiction, she had appreciated her life and her freedom more than anyone else Han knew. It had almost made him feel ashamed, for taking so much for granted.

Almost.

Chewie growled philosophically.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't like people poking their nose into my business. I've made my decision. I don't care about them. If they're stupid enough to fight the Empire, then that's their problem."

Chewie bared his teeth and remarked that he'd been all too willing to side with the Rebels as long as money was involved. Had he really not cared about any of them?

It made Han angry that Chewie was provoking him like this. It made him even angrier that Chewie was at least partially right.

"You know I loved her, damn it," he said quietly, and couldn't quite control his voice breaking. Losing Bria was something he'd had to deal with several times in his life, but Chewie was pouring vinegar into the wound now. And he knew how desperate the rebellion was. He knew how Luke and Leia and the others needed his help. But he wasn't their personal saviour, was he? The one who somehow got them out of whatever pinch they'd landed themselves in?

_Solo_. The name was etched in his mind. _Just me, on my own. Solo_.

Still, memories of that last look Luke had given him still churned in his head. The crazy old man, being cut down and disappearing... Han didn't even want to remember that. And the rebel princess, blaster in hand and taking charge as if she wasn't afraid of even Vader himself. He could only imagine what she'd been through in the hands of that monster, prior to her rescue.

Well. Some rescue.

Chewie growled softly and pointed at the display. Han looked. The blips representing the snubfighters had nearly halved in number. They needed help, and desperately. Han clenched his teeth. Dying in space, hopelessly outnumbered and waiting for backup that would never, _could_ never come, wasn't the best way to go.

His cargo was burning into his conscience. Han sat in silence, but inside he was screaming. Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

Was this how Bria had died? Fighting against staggering odds, waiting for reinforcements that never came, blaster blazing until the end? In a way, he liked to think so; it was how she would have wanted to go. But of course, there was no way to make sure.

He sat in silence for several moments. Chewie was either really busy with piloting or sensitive enough not to push Han any further, because he didn't make so much as a sound.

Conflicting emotions and thoughts whirled about in Han's head. The universe didn't seem to like making things easy for him. It seemed a lot easier to blame the universe than to admit that it might be his conscience, but he wasn't always able to convince himself fully.

He caught himself wondering how much they would've paid him to get rid of the Death Star, then mentally slapped himself. They wouldn't have paid him at all, because they couldn't. Still, it sounded nice, destroying the single most powerful weapon the universe had ever known…

Chewie woofed and yowled softly.

"Ah, keep your pelt on," Han said irritably. "What's wrong with you, anyway? D'you want to quit smuggling and open a soup kitchen?"

Chewie growled, rather loudly.

Han winced involuntarily. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the Wookiee was easily twice as strong as he. "All right, all right."

They sat in silence for a while, Chewie leaving the doing to Han, Han doing nothing. Some part of him was angry at Chewie for not getting them out of here, away from this situation, away from the decision and the responsibility. But at least the Wookiee was letting him make up his mind in peace. At least he wasn't pointing out that Han could've gotten them out of here by now.

He flicked the comm switch and flicked frequencies.

"Negative. I've lost my starboard engine and they're all over me –"

Static. Scratch one X-wing.

Then Luke's voice, sounding determined and concentrated. "Wedge, Biggs… we're going in, and we're going in full throttle." Confirmations, only two this time. There were three of them left, but they weren't giving up yet. Chewie was growling something about courage. Bria, in his head, saying something about being a decent guy. Dewlanna looking at him with that wise, selfless look she did so well.

"I'm hit! I can't stay with you."

The old man raising his lightsaber, to die for them. The princess giving him a withering look that made him feel like dirt. Damn it all, he was out for himself, not anyone else!

"Get clear, Wedge, you can't do any more good back there."

"Sorry!"

Han shook his head, a minute gesture. Antilles was actually apologizing for being able to get out. It was team spirit, an honest regret at not being able to keep going. Han wanted to despise them for their idealistic stupidity, but couldn't. Chewie never once asked him for money for saving his life. Neither had Bria. Dewlanna had given hers for his. Who the hell was he to keep taking and never give?

_Solo,_ his mind answered. _It was their choice. This is my choice. They can't make me; I never forced them to do anything._

"I can't see him! Where is he?"

"Biggs!"

Dewlanna smiled at his as she died. Chewie growled softly. Bria looked at him with tears in her eyes. Luke accused him with a glance. Leia stared him down. Across space, the rebels continued to fight for the galaxy. He'd had enough.

"Damn it all," he growled, and reached for the controls.

Chewie _hrrnnn_ed as Han turned the ship around, a triumphant battle call that made Han's resolve harden. He was back in control. "Get me a reading on what we're dealing with here," he ordered. "We're coming up on their main guns."

Chewie punched a few keys and called up an analysis.

"All right," Han said. "You fly, I shoot."

He left the cockpit at a run. He hardly noticed gravity changing as he settled into the gun turret, every move a practiced one. He adjusted his headset. "I'm in. Give me some targets."

And then they were in, laserbolts flashing past the turret and Chewie's answering challenges ringing in Han's ears. The _Falcon_ dove and twirled through the barrage of fire and Han started pressing the trigger as the threats started multiplying in his target sights. The good thing about big targets was that they were hard to miss, and as targets went, the Death Star was rather major.

"Just find Luke!" Han called when Chewie growled again. "We can't take this thing out with lasers."

He heard a Rebel control officer say something, but Chewie's yowling and the audio sims drowned him out. Han kept shooting, winced as the ship shuddered, murmured an encouragement, and kept shooting.

Then Chewie barked in triumph and Han had new targets. Moving ones. He frowned and narrowed his eyes as he struggled to get the TIE fighter in his target sights. Not quite there... and Luke was there, up ahead somewhere. The _Falcon_ careered along the narrow trench. Han started to call out to Chewie, to tell him that the _Falcon_ was a freighter and not a snubfighter, but thought better of it. All things considered, crashing into the Death Star wasn't the worst thing that could happen. And Chewie was piloting the ship like a champion.

He brought them right up behind the group of TIEs, and suddenly Han's target box blinked. Adrenaline rushed. Han fired, a clean shot. The TIE fighter exploded and the _Falcon_ flew through the remnants of the fireball.

"Yahoo!" Elated and grinning madly, he squeezed both triggers again.

The shots didn't quite connect, but one of the TIEs collided with the other one and then exploded against the trench wall, and the other one was thrown clear. And suddenly, the threat display only showed a lone X-wing, dead ahead.

"You're all clear, kid! Now let's blow this thing and go home!"

Seconds later, he saw the X-wing pull up and then the Death Star grew more distant as Chewie followed suit. Han swiveled the turret and set his sights on the terror machine. He wanted to see this one through till the end.

It blew quite suddenly, silently and spectacularly, lighting up space for several seconds. Han felt a big grin spread over his face as Chewie's victory roar nearly split his ears. "Great shot, kid! That was one in a million!"

"You did it!" Wedge's voice was cracking with excitement. "You actually did it!"

Luke's voice crackled to life. "We did it, Wedge." The relief in his voice was palpable, and there was a grin there, too. "Han, I guess I got you wrong."

"Nearly, kid. Nearly." Han leaned back in his seat, staring out at the empty space where the Death Star had been. He'd done it. He'd taken charge. Taken sides, in fact. He still wasn't entirely sure why, but there it was. It had almost happened too fast. But as he climbed out of the gun turret, anticipation of their reception on Yavin 4 already fluttering in his stomach, he couldn't help feeling proud. Chewie was growling, Luke and Wedge and the kid in the Y-Wing were still cheering, a voice from control was congratulating them, and Han decided that his reflections could wait until he had finished celebrating with them.


End file.
